


For the Horde

by lorneytunes



Category: World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9211376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorneytunes/pseuds/lorneytunes
Summary: Ilise, like many living in Azeroth, had only ever wished for a peaceful life. Sure, she might have been envious of her brothers who lived and worked in Silvermoon, but she was content living with her parents in Eversong Woods. When her family is murdered and she herself is brought to the brink of death, however, Ilise is faced with a terrible choice - trade her life to Sylvanas and live forever in her debt, or die in pain, never to achieve justice for her family's deaths?Her loyalty to her race, her new queen, and the Warchief himself will be repeatedly called into question. Soon Ilise will discover that what she should really be asking herself... is how far is she willing to go for the Horde?





	1. Death Becomes Her

They came in the night like cowards and slaughtered my entire family. Why any band of humans would dare venture so far North is unknown to me, but there they found us, sleeping in our beds, and attacked. I awoke to the sound of my mother’s scream as she died. By then my father and brothers were already dead.

It was unfortunate coincidence that the entire family happened to be gathered in our home that night. Normally my brothers worked in Silvermoon – the elder, Talithas, as a city guard and the younger, Kariel, as a simple kitchen hand in one of the city’s inns. They were here only for a few days to visit before they both had to return to work. It almost seemed to me as though the humans had waited until we were all together so that they might slaughter us all at once, but in reality we were only a brief interruption to their march Northward.

Once I leapt from my bed to investigate the screams the first body I found was Mother’s. She lay, still warm, in the entranceway. I thought for a moment that perhaps she was only unconscious, but when I began to turn her over I saw the viscera spilling from her abdomen. I dropped her back down in horror, stumbling backwards.

“Captain Gisholme!” came a shout from behind me. “There’s another one here!”

“Kill it and move on! We’ve got to go!” was the answering shout.

I was slow recovering from my first dead body. I only just managed to turn around in time to look at the face of my attacker as he swung a mace into my side. I fell to the ground, hard, and lay there wheezing for a few moments. Then, the move that changed my existence forever, I attempted to struggle to my feet. Seeing I wasn’t yet dead, the human soldier cracked me in the skull with the mace and I knew no more.

 

When I awoke again my head was spinning and my eyes felt glued shut. I had to fight to stay conscious, as though I hadn’t had enough sleep, when in reality I felt as though I’d been sleeping forever. When I finally managed to peel my eyes open I was blinded by the sun. It streamed through the open archway to an elaborate balcony, loosely hidden from my sight by a thin veil of pale green cloth.

I tried to sit up and began coughing immediately. I couldn’t keep upright due to the dizzying effects of the violent cough and soon found myself lying flat against the bed again. Then, outside my room I heard rapid footsteps.

“Lord Aruman!” a male voice called, “She’s awake!”

For a few brief moments I was terrified that the footsteps belong to another human, here to finish me off, but as my mind adjusted to my surroundings I began to put together enough facts to calm me. The words had been spoken in Thalassian, the language of my people. Not only that, but the architecture and decoration here were familiar and comforting to me.  Someone must have found me in the ruins of my home and saved me from death.

I had to wait several minutes before said saviour arrived. He wasn’t nearly as frantic as the guard outside my room had been, instead sweeping inside in true lordly fashion. When he saw my open eyes blinking back at him he smiled warmly.

“Ah, you _are_ awake. I’m so pleased. Tur’el, please fetch a tray from the kitchens for our guest. See if we can’t start restoring some of her strength now that she’s conscious.”

The slight, even for an elf, man behind Lord Aruman bowed quickly and scampered from the room. Once he was gone His Lordship turned to me again.

“Now, my dear, know that inside these walls you are safe and I will not permit anyone to do you harm.” He focused intently on me for a moment so I nodded in acknowledgement. “That said… It may assist me in caring for you if I were aware of the circumstances that put you in this state.”

His eyes scanned over me and I became aware of the extent of my injuries. My arms, face and torso throbbed with bruises and stung with healing scratches. If I moved too much my chest ached terribly and I began coughing, though not blood I was pleased to note. My head hurt and felt groggy, and the throbbing increased if I moved too much. Overall, I was in a sorry state.

Lord Aruman, finished his appraisal, returned his gaze to my face and waited.

I cleared my throat, unsure how to begin my story. Images of my mother lying on the ground, insides outside, swam across my mental screen. I squeezed my eyes shut until I started seeing stars then opened them again.

“Slowly, my dear,” Aruman assured me, “you can start with the base facts. Details may come when you are ready. You could start with your name, perhaps.”

Blushing, and realizing I’d spent all this time in a lord’s presence without properly introducing myself, I said, “My name is Ilise, my lord. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He laughed. “The pleasure is all mine, Ilise, but to my honoured guests I am simply Aruman. More about me later, for now, your story.”

Nodding slowly, I began. Lord Aruman listened to every word, nodding in some places and questioning me in others.

“And then I lost consciousness. I have no idea what happened after that.”

He smiled at me again. “There, I believe I can help you. After your brother Talithas failed to return to the city the next day he was reported as a deserter and his name and description given to all patrols in Quel’Thalas. It didn’t take long before a young general leading a troupe South to the Ghostlands discovered the ruins of your home and stopped to investigate. There he found your family members.

“He and his men set about burying them and would have done the same with you had you not coughed when they moved you. Realising you were alive, they brought you to the next nearest settlement on their route, which happened to be my home. You have remained here for a week since then, not returning to consciousness until now.”

He waited while I absorbed the information. I was happy, at least, that my family had been given a proper burial and that their corpses weren’t simply littering the forest floor.

As I was trying to come up with a response, his servant returned bearing a tray of food and drink. It was all, blessedly, light food that I shouldn’t have too much trouble eating in my current state. Although the amount I managed to eat would be an indicator of my progress towards health. The tray was placed on my lap, and I nibbled at small pieces and drank small sips of water while I listened to Aruman chat amiably.

Though his forest home was peaceful, there was little for Lord Aruman Mirthbrook to do out here other than overseeing his servants maintaining the house and grounds, or relaxing by himself. He missed his younger days when he occupied a small apartment in Silvermoon with only a single manservant. My presence in his home, therefore, was a blessing rather than a curse as arranging my care gave him something to occupy his time with.

 

After several days at Mirthbrook House I was still only managing to consume small amounts. Aruman had spent what I considered to be far too much acquiring several health potions, but the small sips I’d been able to swallow didn’t seem to be doing much. My health seemed to be dwindling rather than improving as time went on. Aruman, of course, never voiced this opinion; if he did at all share my thoughts on the matter. He remained positive as ever, avidly researching new methods of improving my health.

After a further week at his house, however, my cough seemed ceaseless, the pain almost unbearable, and I spent most of my time sleeping to avoid it all. Towards the end of this week, Aruman came and sat by my bed to talk to me. He did this a lot, whether I was awake or not, and I often came to in the middle of some story about his days in Silvermoon, causing havoc as a rebellious youth.

I turned to face him, focusing on whatever he might have to say. His stories did help distract me from the pain sometimes.

“I do wish your condition would improve enough that you could join me in the dining hall,” Aruman told me. “Another distinguished guest will be gracing us soon, for only one night as she journeys South. I’m sure meeting her will be incredible, and I do wish I had someone to share it with.”

Who could he be talking about? Some high-ranking member of the aristocracy, perhaps? Maybe a war hero of the Horde? Then again, given the enforced tranquillity of Aruman’s estate, even a Ranger with a few years of training under their belt might get him this excited.

“Who is this guest of yours?” I asked.

There was a pause, no doubt for effect. “Lady Sylvanas Windrunner.”

 

Aruman left while I was still processing this information. Before I’d had a chance to reply he heard sounds of the Banshee Queen’s arrival from outside. He kissed my forehead and swept away to greet her. Reeling from the day’s activities I found it all too much and lost consciousness again.

When I woke again I heard more than one voice in my room. It took a few moments, but once I realised who they belonged to I kept my eyes closed. The eerie tones of an undead woman speaking Thalassian drifted towards me across the room ad I listened intently.

“Who is she?” Sylvanas asked.

“She gave her name as Ilise. From what I have been able to gather while she is conscious, her family were peace-loving commoners from the Eversong Woods. She doesn’t deserve what has been done to her.”

There was a cold silence in the room, then Sylvanas answered. “None of us deserve our fates, Lord Aruman, yet here we are. We either rise above and continue with what we have been given or we wallow in self-pity unable to move on.”

I felt her move beside me then. I desperately tried to hold back a shudder, but it escaped and my entire body rippled with it. Then I began coughing violently. Feeling that I had been caught, my eyes flew open and stared right into the glowing red orbs belonging of the Dark lady herself.

Caught in her gaze like a startled rabbit, I waited. She stared me down for several moments before she broke eye contact. When she turned back to Lord Aruman I found myself taking a huge breath.

“She has some strength remaining but she will fade soon. Though not before I leave for the Undercity. If you wish to leave her to end her suffering naturally I will be on my way, but otherwise… surely you know the only way in which I invite new soldiers to my army. Whether I will find any use for her there is another matter. She has no formal training in any school, be it magic or swordcraft.”

Aruman looked worried. Which was odd considering it wasn’t _his_ life being so casually discussed. “Please, my lady. The power of the Valkyr is strong but is there nothing you yourself can do?”

Sylvanas lowered her eyes and shook her head. “I believe tales of my powers over life and death may be exaggerated, Lord Aruman. If she joins me then her fate is death.” She turned to me then. “And that, my child, is something you must decide for yourself. I have sworn to allow no-one to force this fate upon one of my own ever again.”

Sylvanas swept from the room. A large, armoured skeleton man grabbed Aruman by the shoulder and forced him from the room as well. No matter what decision I made, Sylvanas would not let Aruman interfere.

 

Hours later, well into the night, I still had no idea what it was I wanted. I wasn’t ready to die, be it naturally or otherwise, however, I wasn’t sure if I could bear the unending torment that came as one of Sylvanas’ soldiers. She had been kind to my people, providing us with supplies and protection whenever necessary, but many still cautioned against the lure of the eternal life service to her offered. She herself spoke of undead life as a torment. Why would I wish that upon myself? I would have to truly desire to stay in this world, no matter the cost.

Gentle footsteps alerted me to someone else’s presence. Aruman stood in the doorway. He held a finger to his lips and then came closer.

“Please do not misunderstand my earlier conversation,” he said quietly. “I do not wish death upon you, far from it. I simply hoped that Sylvanas might have access to magics capable of prolonging your natural lifespan. It appears not, but I may have a solution…”

He pulled out a bottle of some sort, a strange, pink liquid glowed gently inside.

“I’ve been doing research in my library this past week. This is known as Juliet’s Tears, a draught said to bring temporary death to anyone who drinks it, reviving them again the next morning. It is merely an illusion, but it may be enough to fool the valkyr into thinking you truly are dead. Surely then their magic would restore you to health. By tomorrow morning the potion’s effects would bring you back to yourself.”

I considered his proposal. His words seemed to make sense. After all, he had spent days poring over books to reach this conclusion. However, I was unsure whether the valkyrie would really be fooled, and what punishment Sylvanas might inflict for the attempt. Knowing I was dying either way, I decided I had no other option.

I reached out my hand for the potion.

“Careful, now,” he said. “You must make sure you drink the entire draught, and quickly, before it starts to take effect.”

I nodded and he handed it over. Uncorking he bottle I tipped my head and swallowed the potion as fast as I could. It tasted like the sweetest Summer wine. Then the flavour changed. Blood and ash seemed to fill my mouth and it was all I could do to keep the potion down. My vision blurred and I fell backwards, but I was dead before I hit the pillow.

 

I’m not sure if I really was truly dead, but several moments later I found myself hovering next to the bed, looking down at my own corpse. Aruman hid the bottle and then ran from the room, calling for Sylvanas.

It took less than a minute for the Banshee Queen to appear in my quarters accompanied by Aruman, her Undead bodyguard and a Valkyr.

“Was her passing natural?” Sylvanas asked, looking at my body with an unreadable expression.

Aruman shook his head. “It appears she took her own life with poison. Where she got it from I do not know.”

Sylvanas looked at him for several minutes, looking for a lie. Really, though, he was telling the truth. He seemed to be using that fact to keep any trace of his deceit away from his features. Eventually Sylvanas nodded to the Valkyr who pulled out a horn and began to play it. The sound was awful and I wanted to cover my ears to block it out. It rang through me even in spirit form, although perhaps that was its purpose. The more I strained not to raise my hands and block it out the louder it seemed to call. When I finally gave in and allowed myself to move, I found myself drawn rapidly and painfully back into my body.

I blinked with my own eyes again, and sat up in my bed. A strange power flowed through me, healing my scars and knitting tissue back together. After stepping out from under the sheets, I turned to Sylvanas, dropping to one knee to acknowledge her as my new queen.


	2. Where I Now Belong

I had little time to adjust to my new state of being before Sylvanas and I were leaving Aruman’s estate. She had decided, although pleased by how well I appeared to have been converted by her valkyr, I possessed no combat skills so I would serve as her handmaid for now. Until I learned some, at least, which she did offer to arrange for me. 

Aruman seemed a little intimidated by my new form, and spoke little to me as he waved us off from his front gates. This mattered little to me now; I had eyes only for Sylvanas. I set myself the task of becoming the best handmaiden the Eastern Kingdoms, if not all of Azeroth. 

Sylvanas was used to communicating with her subjects, or every so often even controlling them, through the combination of her own dark powers and that of her valkyr. This bond between the Dark lady and her servants meant that often I could anticipate her needs before she asked me to fulfil them. I was quick, efficient, and silent. I hadn’t spoken a word since I pledged her my allegiance in Mirthbrook House and the trend continued during our journey South. 

This didn’t seem to bother Sylvanas at all. For a being so terrifying to all but a few brave or merely arrogant souls, she talked a fair amount. She recounted for me tales of the many wars of Azeroth and her part in them. I listened attentively, but my opinions and comments remained inside my own head.  

 

When we reached the Undercity, several days of travel later, we were met with the stares of everyone we passed. Many of Sylvanas’ subjects seemed confused by my presence. I imagined they must be comparing me to one of the Dark Rangers, and wondering if that was my destiny, even though I was dressed as a Blood Elf commoner.  

Sylvanas, who had never bothered with a handmaiden before now, was impressed enough by my performance so far that sometimes her surface thoughts turned to me. They were the only ones I could access through our link, and only occasionally. She, too, compared me mentally to her Dark Rangers, and I learned from a stray grumble that some of her people were mistrustful of them. This, in part, explained why so many of the undead we passed looked at me with fear or… not necessarily anger, but definitely some form of hostility. 

When we reached her chambers of office, on the lowest level of the city, Sylvanas ordered an undead soldier to take me to find some clothing. I hadn’t noticed until she mentioned it, but my clothes were torn in several places from when I’d been attacked. It appeared Aruman had been respectful and not dared to change the clothes of a sleeping lady. 

My queen attended to some matters of government while I was lead outside to a nearby merchant. I was given only a simple, inexpensive dress, but it was finer than anything I’d owned in life. The merchant gave us a small nod of respect as he sent us on our way back to Sylvanas. 

I changed quickly in a side room and then re-joined the party in the main chamber of the Royal Quarter. Sylvanas was announcing her plans to fly West to Orgrimmar for a meeting of the Horde leaders. She would take myself and a small number of soldiers as a personal guard, but to show good faith her security would largely be in the hands of Orgimmar’s guards. 

Hearing this news startled me. I’d been her servant for only a few days and already I’d been dressed in finery, allowed into the Royal Quarter, and would soon be visiting Orgrimmar where I would stand in the same room as leaders with battle histories as long as Sylvanas’ cape. Regardless of my internal monologue, however, my face remained impassive; a trait I’d picked up quickly in my new life. 

The party headed for Orgrimmar would spend the rest of the day gathering any supplies needed for the journey and then depart that night. Undead didn’t need to sleep and so, now, neither did I. It was something I wasn’t quite used to yet, even though we hadn’t stopped once to rest on the trip to the Undercity from Aruman’s house. 

“Have you gathered the things I asked for?”

Set in her Ranger ways, Sylvanas often appeared next to me from nowhere. It was something I had no doubt I would take longer to get used to than no longer requiring sleep. 

“Uh, yes…” I reached to my belt and detached a pouch filled with herbs. “Everything’s in there that you asked for.” 

Sylvanas nodded. “Good, keep them with you until we arrive in Orgrimmar. I’ll explain their use to you then.” 

She turned and left to speak to one of her generals. Preparations for our journey were almost complete. Once Sylvanas gave the final word we would head North from the ruins above the Undercity and take a zeppelin to Kalimdor. She nodded to the man before her and I knew it was time. He turned to the collection of undead soldiers awaiting their queen’s commands and ordered them to move out.  

We made our way to the elevators as a group, myself and the undead general (whose name I’d still not asked as I found him incredibly intimidating) walking at either side of Sylvanas and a little behind her. On the surface, outside the ruins, several skeletal horses waited for us. Our supplies had already been loaded, as had any personnel that didn't need to be part of the boarding party. We mounted up and took off for the ship. 

 

For the others, the journey across the ocean between the two continents was dull and routine. For me, however, it was a unique experience I would remember forever. I watched every tiny island that went past, even those which were merely a small mound of sand in the water. Thankfully Sylvanas spent most of the trip co-ordinating her guards and making arrangements for her activities in Orgrimmar once we disembarked. I had ample time to observe and gawk. 

Eventually, though, like all things, the journey ended. The airship docked atop a towering plateau in the heart of Orgrimmar where we were immediately met by a small group of emissaries of the Warchief. 

"Lady Sylvanas," the orc addressed her, "when your party is assembled we will lead you to the meeting place." 

Sylvanas levelled him a cool, condescending glare. "I require no assistance in reaching Thrall's Fortress. I have been there many times to meet with the Warchief." 

The orc shook his head. "That may be, my lady, but the meeting has been moved. It was decided that assembling the Horde leaders in one place would make the capital a desirable target for the Alliance. The meeting has been moved somewhere more discreet." 

Sylvanas wore an expression that clearly conveyed the inconvenience this was causing her, but she issued orders to the guards around her and then nodded to the orc. 

"If you will leave directions with my staff, they will gather our luggage while we follow you to the meeting place," she said. 

The orc nodded. He spoke quietly to another orc standing next to him before turning to leave. Sylvanas and her guards followed him slowly on horseback. It was then I realised I had not yet mounted my own ride and quickly rectified the situation. I had to trot briskly to catch up with Sylvanas but once I did so I settled into an easy walk beside her. Our party boarded the great, wooden elevator together and descended into the city.  

I didn't have much time to observe my surroundings as I took care to follow the others to the front gates of the city. Most of them knew the area well but I almost ended up lost as the path forked unexpectedly and my party disappeared around the corner before I noticed. I had been observing a vendor's wares, staring a little too long at the strange foods here. Luckily I picked the right turning on my first attempt and soon caught up with the rest of the group. After that I learned to keep my curiosity in check. I wasn't here to observe the sights; I was here on Horde business. 

Outside the city gates, the orcs, who had been walking in front of us until now, mounted enormous, imposing, black wolves and the whole party began moving at a faster pace. Soon we were a decent way to the South-West of the city. Before us stood a large, stone tower. It was nondescript, and to be entirely truthful appeared abandoned, but we were assured that here the leaders and their entourage could meet in security and privacy.  

Sylvanas wasted no time heading inside to meet the other leaders. Our party was the second to arrive so far. We were reportedly still awaiting the arrival of Vol'jin of the trolls and Cairne Bloodhoof of the taurens. Once all were assembled Thrall would depart Orgrimmar and join us. I felt a wave of annoyance from Sylvanas that the one who had arranged the meeting in the first place wasn't here yet, but her face remained cold and indifferent. 

Although I'd been wondering what it would be like to share the same space as heroes like Thrall and Vol'jin, I hadn't thought about the leader with the most relevance to myself. We had only just entered the grand hall in the centre of the structure where the leaders would meet and discuss whatever issue Thrall had summoned them all here for, when my lady was almost assaulted by a figure I had only dreamed of meeting someday.

“Sylvanas!” called a blood elf with majestic silver hair. “What is the meaning of this?”

Never one to appear shaken, Sylvanas replied, “I believe it was intended to be a meeting of the Horde leaders. So the reason you were invited, Lor’themar, I cannot fathom.”

“That is _not_ what I meant, Sylvanas. I meant _this_ ,” he growled, sweeping a hand in my direction. “By what authority do you raise one of my people for your undead legion?”

I looked between the two of them, eyes wide. Was saving my life, so to speak anyway, against some sort of treaty? I couldn’t hide my worry as I waited for the answer.

“ _Watch your words_ ,” Sylvanas hissed. “This child came to my side of her own free will. I would expect you to remember why I respect her right to choose, even if others were not so kind to her.”

Realisation dawned on Lor’themar’s face. “The family that were slaughtered by the humans in the woods…” he said solemnly.

Sylvanas replied with only a curt nod.

Lor’themar backed off then, his breathing still heavy from his rage. My panic had my own breath coming in short gasps, although that was more out of habit than actual need for oxygen. I remained silent as I watched the two leaders. Not that either of them had asked for my input, but I had no idea what to say if I were to attempt to defend myself. Or rather, defend my existence, which seemed to be what the argument was about.

A few moments later, Lor’themar left without saying a word to either of us.

Sylvanas sighed. “Petulant child,” she said.

 Whatever she may have been thinking about the situation, the Dark Lady kept her thoughts to herself. There was barely a pause before she set about establishing her guards’ positions and patrols within the building and discussing with the orcs where she would be staying.

 

Out of courtesy, there was a bed, but I doubted Sylvanas would be using it while she was here. Other than that the room was sparsely decorated, with a small window to the outside world being the only interesting feature – and even that only showed a desolate view of sprawling, empty Barrens.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to look at the view for long. Sylvanas soon set me to work ferrying messages between her guards and organising the luggage we’d brought. It was boring, tedious work that kept me away from anything exciting that might be going on as the various leaders arrived, although as a handmaiden I’m not sure what else I’d expected. I finished just as dusk fell and went to find my mistress to ask her about my next task.

When I found Sylvanas I realised that while I’d been running around the upstairs rooms organising our things, Thrall had arrived and begun organising the other dignitaries. I stepped through the open archway into the meeting room to find them all in the midst of a heated discussion. Rather than interrupt I stood quietly to one side of the entrance and waited.

“That’s impossible,” stated Sylvanas. “Why would the humans be mounting an attack now?”

“You yourself saw the result of their little scouting party into my lands yourself, Sylvanas,” said Lor’themar. “Or have you forgotten already?”

“No doubt a foolish general seeking glory,” was the reply.

“Whatever the reason for their progression northward, the fact remains that the humans _are_ mounting an assault. My scouts have confirmed they are reinforcing their numbers and cases like that of your murdered citizens, Lor’themar, indicate that they are scouting our defences.”

Nobody seemed to have noticed my appearance. The casual way in which they discussed my family's deaths, as though we were mere numbers, sent rage simmering through my veins. The more I thought about my family, and the humans who had murdered them, the closer I came to boiling point.

Sylvanas turned, looking directly into my eyes. They widened in response. She had felt my rage. She paused to look at me for a few more moments. I could tell she was weighing something in her mind, but her thoughts were far more carefully concealed than my own.

"Gentlemen," Sylvanas began, returning to face her fellow leaders. "This is my handmaiden, Ilise."

All eyes turned to face me as Sylvanas' hand swept in my direction.

"Tell me, Ilise," she continued, "did the men who murdered your family seem as though they were scouts?"

I stopped completely, my rage momentarily forgotten as I felt the pressure of five legendary heroes examining me. I stared back at them, eyes wide and the rest of me frozen on place.

A large, green orc that I took to be Thrall smiled gently. "Don't be afraid, young one; tell us what you remember."

I cleared my throat.

"By the time I awoke there was little to see but bodies," I told them. "I only saw one man, the soldier who killed me. He called out to someone, his captain, but I can't remember the name. It did sound like they were on a mission, because the captain said they needed to hurry."

It wasn't my intention to embarrass Sylvanas, but my evidence was crucial to determining whether the humans really were invading the North. I had to tell the story exactly as I remembered it.

“Killed you?” cried the tauren, then he turned to Sylvanas. His form towered over even Thrall and must have been a formidable sight up close. “She is undead?”

Clearly, although Lor’themar had realised that Sylvanas had returned me to life, he hadn’t told the others. My body had healed well enough upon resurrection that it was almost impossible to tell me apart from other blood elves. Aside from purple irises, I looked as though I was still alive.

“Lower your voice, Cairne,” said Thrall.

“But it’s an abomination!” replied Cairne, shouting now. “Lor’themar,” he went on, turning to my former regent, “How could you permit something like this to happen to one of your kin?”

“I allowed no such thing,” said Lor’themar. His voice was level and it was difficult to tell whether he was offended at the implication, pointing he blame towards Sylvanas, or something more.

“Then she steals from you! Turning your people towards her army of the damned!”

Sylvanas had been watching the others silently until now, but finally she opened her mouth to speak, eyebrows narrowed. “The only lives I take against their will are those belonging to the enemies of the Horde. Ilise chose this life rather than letting her own expire prematurely.”

“And yet,” said Lor’themar, “never mind seeking my permission, I was not informed at all.”

Sylvanas smiled. “Ilise was raised mere days ago. Our encounter today was my first opportunity to tell you, Lor’themar, and yet you leapt on us before I could do so.”

“Clever words, traitorous bitch, but even a fool could smell the deceit on them.”

Sylvanas looked as though she might draw her bow and shoot Cairne there and then for his remark.

“QUIET!”

The other leaders turned to look at Thrall. Vol’jin crouched next to him, waiting patiently for the Warchief to speak.

“Bickering amongst ourselves solves nothing. Lor’themar, disputes over sovereignty can be had at a later date. For now, so long as the child gave her consent there is little that can be done about the matter.” Thrall turned to me now. “Did you agree to be raised by the valkyr? Knowing what it would mean?”

I nodded, slowly but immediately. I didn’t look at Sylvanas; I knew that any suggestion that I was seeking her guidance or reassurance would render my testimony useless. They wanted me to prove I was not her pawn, that she did not control my mind and actions.

Thrall nodded, Vol’jin remained impassive, but the others did not seem convinced. Still, they kept quiet.

“Thank you, now if we could return to the matter at hand…”

Just like that the spotlight turned away from me and I stood in the shadows once more. I loitered by the archway until the meeting was over, ignored by all.

 

After the meeting, Sylvanas and I convened in her rooms. I assumed she was going to instruct me on the use of the herbs she’d had me gather. Much to my surprise, Sylvanas offered me the bed. I needed it as little as she did, although I might be more likely to nap occasionally out of habit.

“My lady,” I said. “Thank you for the generous offer but as I am only your handmaiden I’m sure I can manage.”

She gave me a small smile before returning to business. “That may be so, but I will not be here much longer. I will spend the next few days visiting some of the Forsaken troops stationed throughout Kalimdor. I will return here when it is time for us to leave. In the meantime, you will stay here to safeguard my affairs.”

I made to object but she stopped me with a simple hand gesture.

“Many of the other leaders will remain close to Orgrimmar for further talks with the Warchief. During this time, I want you to listen, befriend whomever you can, but most importantly keep me informed of any plots that might be made against me. I will be leaving Agatha here with you, she will aid our communication as my distance from you increases.” She looked at me, eyes narrowed. “Do _not_ fail me.”

I fell to one knee. “No, my lady. I will not fail you.”

As she turned to leave I remembered the herbs again. “My lady?” I asked, holding them out to her.

“Keep them,” Sylvanas said. “If you suspect anyone means you harm take them from the bag and throw them at your foe.”

“What do they do?” I asked.

“You will see. Don’t waste them.”

 

Within an hour Sylvanas had assembled a party and was heading out across the plains. I watched her skeletal mount kick up dust as she cantered away towards the Barrens. Just as soon as I had found a new ally, she was gone.


	3. The Waiting Game

Making friends with people who scorn your very existence is almost impossibly difficult. I spent most of the next day simply lurking amongst the other occupants of the tower. Leaders and their parties came and went, but for the most part I was on my own.

Only Thrall was willing to speak to me. It took almost a full day of lingering in the shadows, but when it was time for the evening meal I made a show of sitting at the table with those who still remained. It was then that the orc leader finally chose to attempt small talk.

“So, Ilise,” he said, after clearing his throat. “How are you enjoying Orgrimmar?”

“For a nation full of orcs it’s been incredibly quiet,” I replied without batting an eyelash.

The troll seated near him made a rumbling noise that might have been a laugh. Thrall was more obvious about his humour. He smiled at me, a gentle expression that spread across his whole face and made his eyes sparkle.

Tension successfully eased, I ate my meal in silence. I took only small bites – I hadn’t tried eating yet and had no idea what would happen given I no longer actually needed nourishment – but it seemed enough to keep the others at ease. They chatted idly about this in that. Initially it was only Thrall and the troll – who I spent the rest of the dinner trying to remind myself was named ‘Vol’jin’ – but eventually emissaries of other races (who, like myself, had been left behind to temporarily replace their leaders) began discussing the food, or the weather, and eventually themselves.

I took it all in. I knew Sylvanas was counting on me to observe and listen, so observe I did. I noted that Thrall and Vol’jin’s friendship was easy and well-worn, while the two blood elves’ conversation with a lone tauren was more strained as they attempted to find common ground. (Having been persecuted by our night elf cousins, blood elves were naturally suspicious of anyone too in-tune with nature.)

I listened to what they talked about, but they were trifling topics – the beauty of the Eversong Woods, the peaceful plains of Mulgore, and the amount of fruit or meat each race had been exporting recently. I diligently waited it out until, eventually, the dignitaries left the table one-by-one. Thrall and Vol’jin were the last to go.

“Good night, Ilise,” said the orc, with a look on his face I couldn’t fathom.

“Yeah,” agreed Vol’jin. “Hope ta be seein’ ya around.”

I suddenly wondered if there had been a conversation between the two of them I’d missed. Then they were gone, leaving me in the empty dining room with two guards eyeing me warily. I scurried from the room back to Sylvanas’ quarters.

 

The next day followed much the same pattern. I spent most of my time lurking around the tower. Nobody wanted to talk to me, so I was never forced to make small talk with other dignitaries. Instead I simply watched and observed where I could. This may not have been what Lady Sylvanas had instructed me to do, but I had a better plan in mind, one I was sure would please her just the same.

Thrall seemed to be the key to gaining the others’ trust. I could already tell that where the Warchief placed his faith, Vol’jin would follow. With two of the five Horde leaders (plus Sylvanas, of course) on my side, the rest would come soon after. I was disappointed, therefore, to hear that Thrall was not present in the tower today, nor would he be later. I was going to have to wait and see if he turned up tomorrow.

I spent the rest of the day, therefore, continuing to wander the tower, casually eavesdropping but generally making it look like I was either busy or enjoying a relaxing holiday. The other dignitaries still gave me a wide berth and wouldn’t talk to me, but I cared little what they thought of me. That night I went to bed again full of resolve, sure that I would befriend Thrall on the morrow.

But he didn’t come.

After waiting most of the day for him, continuing my usual spying activities, I ran into Vol’jin instead. Literally. The quiet troll had padded around a corner while I’d been panicking about my mission and I hadn’t heard him. Had he been standing at full height I would have been at risk of taking a hip to the jaw. As it was I hit him in the chest instead.

“Careful, young one,” he said, “ya don’t want ta be fallin’ over around dis place. Not everyone’ll be offerin’ ya a hand ta help ya up.”

The wrong ears might have taken the warning as a threat, but from my observations of Thrall and Vol’jin I knew better. He was my ally, but he didn’t necessarily trust everyone else in the building.

Before I could think on it further, and perhaps determine exactly _who_ Vol’jin suspected, the Troll was speaking again. This time his tone was brighter, as though the other exchange had never happened.

“I was about ta go have a bite, ya hungry?”

I didn’t point out the flaw in his question, I just accepted his offer by falling into step beside him as he moved towards the dining chamber. Instead of going in, however, Vol’jin walked past it in the direction of the kitchens.

A beleaguered-looking orc looked up as we entered. He seemed as though he was about to bark an order to get out, but when he saw Vol’jin he did the chef’s equivalent of standing to attention.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” he asked, quite formally, in Orcish. He gave _me_ a strange look, however.

I remained still and silent, by now used to the fear and suspicion my presence elicited.

Vol’jin grinned, adding a sharp array of teeth to his enormous tusks.

“I was hopin’ for a snack ta take up ta the roof, just sumtin’ light…”

 

‘Light’ turned out to involve an enormous tray of different meats, fruits, nuts, and cheeses. Once the orcs who had brought it had bowed out, Vol’jin reached down for a leg of something and tore off a chunk with his teeth. He chewed it quietly. I sat beside him in silence and waited.

“Strange position ya existence be puttin’ the Warchief in,” he said. “Lor’themar be claimin’ insult ta his people, but more likely it be ta his pride because he wasn’t informed. Sylvanas be tellin’ him ta keep his nose out, and were ya originally human she’d probably be right, but we’re across murky waters here.”

He took another bite and chewed it ponderously, all the while staring at me.

“Course, then there’s ya own right ta exist. Thrall’s people know plenty about their fate restin’ in others’ hands; he’s not about to go lettin’ Lor’themar demand ya execution. Not when there’s bigger problems affectin’ the entire Horde.”

“The human invasion,” I said.

Vol’jin nodded. “If the humans are makin’ a power play, the last thing we need is ta fall apart now.”

While Vol’jin continued with his leg of meat I picked up a few small chunks of fruit and nibbled on them for something to do.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. “To help my case?”

Several minutes passed before he answered.

“Make allies,” he said, “don’t make trouble, and above all don’t be making enemies.”

We didn’t get much longer to sit and eat. Vol’jin’s company was pleasant, and I was doing exactly as Sylvanas (and now Vol’jin) had instructed – make friends. Unfortunately, this did not stop a young troll approaching his leader and telling him it was time to leave.

Vol’jin stood. “I’ve things ta do elsewhere,” he said. “But I’ll be seein’ ya again.”

“Soon, I hope,” I replied.

He smiled. “Spirits be with ya.”

Then another ally left me behind.

I watched from the top of the tower as Vol’jin and several other trolls mounted a group of raptors and took off across the plains. I kept watching until the sun went down, thinking about what the wise, old troll had told me. I wasn’t particularly in a rush to get back to my mission of stalking the tower’s occupants. I figured I had some time to spare, anyway, considering the progress I’d made so far. Thrall and Vol’jin not only friendly with me, but concerned for my welfare? Sylvanas had to be happy with that.

 

I began visiting the roof regularly over the next few days, whenever I felt I needed a break. This was mainly due to the fact that no-one of interest visited the tower during that time. Vol’jin did not return, nor did Sylvanas. I was left largely to my own devices and grew bored of the suspicious faces of the tower’s other occupants. I had tried, on occasion, to make small talk with them or offer a friendly greeting, but they would hear nothing of it and still left the room quickly whenever I was near.

On one occasion, after being snubbed by a particularly snooty blood elf lord, I was just about to head for the staircase when I heard a familiar voice.

“It is good to see you again, Ilise.”

I turned to see Thrall standing in the doorway of the main entrance to the tower. Behind him, outside, I could see his travelling companions attending to several enormous wolves.

“Greetings, Warchief,” I answered, unsure what to say to him. Vol’jin had implied Thrall was my ally, but that didn’t necessarily mean we were on informal terms.

He chuckled at me and gestured for me to walk with him. I followed him up the stairs. The roof seemed to be a popular destination among Horde leaders.

On the way up Thrall began to chat amicably with me.

“Have any of the other leaders visited today?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, sir. It’s been quiet for two days now, since Vol’jin left.”

Thrall gave me an odd look. For a moment I wondered if it was to do with my alliance with Vol’jin. Had my words given something away?

When we reached the roof, however, his words made clear his thoughts.

“Ilise,” he began with a sigh, “the other dignitaries’ suspicion of you may simply come from their own prejudices towards the Forsaken. That said, however, I cannot help but wonder if there is some justification behind it.”

I stood aghast. Vol’jin had told me that Thrall was my ally, that he was actively fighting against those who spurned my existence. Was he mistaken? Had Thrall changed his mind?

“Of course, you need not confirm my suspicions, but I am inclined to believe that Sylvanas left you here with a purpose. One that might involve great personal risk.”

I kept my face impassive while I considered his observation. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but my loyalty was, first and foremost, to Sylvanas. She had raised me from the dead, taken me in when my family had been slaughtered, and it was she who was so focused on bringing the humans who did it to justice. Was the regent of my old life to be relied upon we would all remain in a blissfully ignorant daze while the Alliance slaughtered us in our beds. As friendly as Thrall had been to me so far, a small gesture of compassion would not convince me to betray one of my few allies for another.

I stared at him in silence.

He sighed. “I’m not sure what I expected.”

“Nor am I,” I replied, perhaps too quickly.

This silence dragged out somewhat painfully. I didn’t enjoy snubbing someone who, so far, had only shown me kindness, but I wouldn’t betray Sylvanas.

I think Thrall knew my current line of thought, as he turned to me with gentle smile.

“I do not expect you to betray your regent, nor your people, I simply hoped that there might be a reason other than a political one for our friendship to continue.”

Guilt flooded my features. Had I been living I’m sure blood would have rushed to my cheeks in much the same way. The thought raised an interesting question – did I still bleed? Did blood still run through my veins? Or was my new existence completely alien from blood elf biology?

Thrall continued while I was momentarily distracted. “I know what it is like to discover one’s parents have been unjustly murdered.”

This jarred me from my thoughts. I hadn’t known much about Thrall’s history other than his status as a war hero. He had lost his own parents? And lost them to violence the same as I? Memories of my mother’s body, still warm, entrails flowing forth from her belly, flooded into my mind. A tear rolled down my cheek.

Tears? This was not the Forsaken way. I had never heard of the undead crying, nor feeling any emotion other than rage or vengeance. What on Azeroth was wrong with me? First blushing, now tears. Such displays of emotion in front of my target… Were Sylvanas to return there and then and see me like this she would have been furious.

“And I see you, too, have not forgotten,” said Thrall, continuing from his earlier statement. “Good. I was afraid you might have been completely lost to us.”

“I…” Words continued to fail me. I couldn’t look the Warchief in the eye for some reason.

“Ilise, my aim is not to shame you. I truly wish to be your friend, if you will have me. A friendship cannot survive, however, when one does not trust the other.”

“You don’t trust me?” This was fair. Nobody in the tower did.

“That is not what I meant,” said Thrall. “It is you who does not trust. You lurk in shadows, listen at doors, and make every effort to hide your true thoughts and feelings. You are beginning to weave for yourself the same cloak of secrets that Lady Sylvanas does.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that he had compared me to my mistress.

“Yet I wonder if you are truly prepared to take on such a task. It is clear you still feel a range of emotion that your undead brethren do not. There has been something strange about you since the moment you came here. Perhaps this is why the others shun you so.”

I froze. Panic took over, causing my thoughts to race through my head too fast for me to focus. What was he saying? What did he want? The Warchief had noticed it too? Was there something wrong with me?

My thoughts turned further back, to a moment I had almost forgotten about. It was strange that I had not once re-visited that time. I had left Lord Aruman and all memories of him behind at his estate.

Perhaps it had been a defence mechanism. Perhaps I feared so desperately that Sylvanas might sniff out my betrayal that I repressed all memory of it. I was a liar. I had tricked one of the most powerful leaders in all of Azeroth into saving me from death.

Or had I?

I had felt my soul leave my body. Then it had been returned by the valkyr. I had become (relatively) emotionless, I had felt the unwavering loyalty to Sylvanas, I did not need to eat, breathe or sleep – even if I still chose to do so out of habit. Was I not undead? What was I? Had Aruman’s bottle simply contained poison after all? Had it merely killed me so that I might be raised by Sylvanas like any other?

I didn’t know. The confusion this brought made my head spin out of control. I felt dizzy. I stumbled.

A steady hand on my shoulder jolted me back to reality. I looked up into Thrall’s eyes in panic, grounded but still fearful and unsure of what to do from here.

“Ilise,” he said. “I think you had better start from the beginning.”

I didn’t know what else to do. So I told him. I told him everything, right from the beginning – my family’s death, waking up in Aruman’s estate, my condition worsening, Sylvanas, the potion… right up until my arrival in Orgrimmar. Thrall listened to every word silently. He didn’t question me aloud, but I could see his thoughts rolling across his features.

“What am I?” I begged.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

My face fell. Thrall’s natural charisma, his age, his position as Warchief… all of this had convinced me he was a wise, benevolent authority who would help me out of my predicament. That is why the truth had flowed so easily from my lips. I had been so sure that he could help me.

“But if you don’t mind,” he went on. “I would like to see what I can do.”

 

Thrall led me down several floors to my bedroom. He drew the curtain across and shut the door.

“It is less private here than on the roof,” he stated. “But what I am about to do would be seen from a great distance up there.”

Seating me gently on the bed Thrall stepped back and held up his hands. He seemed to be chanting something gently under his breath. As warm, natural green light began to form around his fingers, I began to recognise some of his words as a prayer to the elements to aid him. Thrall was attempting shamanic magic on me. This was something I had not seen before. I shivered with both mild fear and also anticipation.

Soon the warm light began to flow into me. It swirled around my body and began to fill me with warmth. A crushing frost that I hadn’t realised was there began to lift. My very soul seemed to be thawing. I felt a shudder in my chest as my heart fluttered to life and began to beat.

_Once_ , _twice…_

On the third beat my heart stopped with an almighty crushing sensation. I collapsed to my knees, screaming in pain. My vision blurred and my ears rang. Through the awful noise and pain I could just hear Thrall’s voice.

“Ilise!” he cried. “Ilise what’s wrong!”

The magic stopped and I felt a cold chill creep through me once again. I began to shiver on the floor, my eyesight growing ever-dimmer, even though my eyes were wide open. I felt myself gasping for breath, even though I hadn’t needed to breathe in over a week (in fact I had been slowly shirking the habit). I couldn’t hear Thrall, anymore; couldn’t hear anything. The only sound was the awful ringing that was slowly becoming an endless drone. It sounded almost like a valkyrie’s horn.

As the last of my vision began to flicker out, I thought I saw my own hand - stretched out in front of me on the floor. A gentle pink was slowly flowing out of my fingers, turning them back to grey.


End file.
